Akkarin's Defeat
by A Whisper Of Grace
Summary: One-shot. Bits and pieces that were skipped over or missed at the end of High Lord.


**AN: Some years ago, Trudi Canavan wrote a beautiful series called the Black Magician Trilogy. It's a wonderful, inspiring story of a young girl who is forced to become someone new when she starts blowing things up. Stupid Ichani. Anyway, this is the bit that, if it had been written by the actual author no doubt much, much better, and added into the books, would have made me cry. Just because after everything you realise that Akkarin is just a man, and he can feel love, and he chooses to love Sonea. Akkarin is a beautiful creation, and I hope I did the ramifications of his death justice.**

**Disclaimer: Trudi Canavan owns the Black Magician Trilogy.**

**Akkarin's Defeat**

All was silent. Sonea stared at the three bodies lying before the University. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She felt no triumph. No pleasure. Just emptiness. She turned to Akkarin.

A smile curled the edge of his lips. His eyes were open, but fixed somewhere beyond her. As she moved, the hands about her wrists loosened and fell away.

'No,' she whispered. 'Akkarin.' Grabbing his hands, she sent her mind inward. Nothing. Not even the slightest spark of life.

He had given her too much power.

He had given her everything.

With shaking hands, Sonea ran her fingers over his face, then bent forward and kissed his lifeless mouth.

Then she curled herself around him and began to cry.

Dorrien focused his will quickly, creating a disk of power beneath his feet. He sped down toward Sonea and Akkarin. Feeling dismay at the look of her face, he lost concentration for a moment and felt his magic slip. He dropped a few meters before hastily recreating the disk and lowering himself to the floor.

'Sonea.'

He stepped forward and sank to his knees beside her, placing his hand on her back. She lay with half her body covering his, her head on his chest. One of her hands gripped his, the other bunched the former High Lord's robes near his neck. She was sobbing hysterically. She ignored him.

Dorrien gently touched Akkarin's free hand. There was no energy in him at all. 'Sonea, what happened?' he whispered. 'A knife couldn't have absorbed his energy.'

She didn't reply. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her, stroking back her hair.

Emotion warred inside him. It occurred to him that he should find some feeling suggesting that he was glad Sonea's lover was dead, but felt no such thing. Only an overwhelming sense of dispair.

He heard boots landing on the dirt behind him. A moment later he felt his father's familiar hand grip his shoulder hard, hard enough to hurt. Glancing up, he saw that Rothen's eyes were bright.

'Is he dead?' Balkan's words were harsh, but the welling pain in them spoke of the same emotion that Dorrien felt. 'Can you Heal him, Dorrien?'

'He is completely drained,' Dorrien muttered. Rothen's hand tightened even more on his shoulder. 'I don't know, the Ichani must have –'

'Sonea!'

All but Sonea looked up in the direction of the voice. A boy – no, his features were that of a man despite his height – ran at full speed toward the magicians. A woman and another, taller man followed at a slower pace.

'Is he alive?'

Dorrien shook his head. Sonea made no move to acknowledge him.

Balkan came into Dorrien's vision as the Warrior stepped passed him to examine the Ichani's bodies. Dorrien glanced back to the new arrivals as the man and woman reached them… and narrowed his eyes at the woman.

'I am not Ichani,' she said in a soft voice.

'Savara,' the short man said quietly. He looked to Dorrien, then pointed at Rothen. 'He knows me. I wouldn't help an Ichani.'

Rothen knelt beside Dorrien and put her hand over his former novice's. 'Sonea,' he began, but then shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks.

'Someone should tell the servant,' the large man muttered to the smaller one.

'Takan will know. He's wearing a gem, remember?'

'The High Lord might not have told him,' the Sachakan woman said. The wearer only knows what the maker chooses to reveal. I doubt Akkarin would have wanted Takan to see him die.'

There was a pause. 'How do you know the servant is here?' the large man asked suspiciously.

'Gol,' the short one said. The word was perhaps meant as a warning, but defeat was foremost in his tone.

'Sorry, Ceryni,' was the muttered reply.

Ceryni sent Gol and the reluctant Savara to find Takan, apparently Akkarin's still-loyal servant. Dorrien took all this in without paying much attention; he could not block out Sonea's heart-wrenching sobs. She had not moved since he had landed.

'We should take them inside,' Balkan said, gesturing to Sonea and Akkarin as he returned. 'I have instructed what is left of the Guild to return. It would not be a triumphant sight to see him dead – or her like this.'

'Sonea,' Rothen repeated, taking his hand from Dorrien's shoulder and placing it on Sonea's. 'Come inside with me.'

'No,' Sonea whispered through her sobs.

Cery hadn't cryed in a long time: not since he was a boy. Despite this, he felt tears stain his cheeks as he sat in Lord Rothen's living room with Rothen's son. The Healer's eyes were just as wet. Rothen was with Sonea in the next room.

'Do you think they'll come back?' Cery asked the magician quietly.

'The Ichani? Probably. Hopefully not for a long while yet, though. Unless one of these conveyed what happened to others back in Sachaka, all they'll know is that they were defeated. They'll be unwilling to attempt this again.'

'What will happen to Sonea?'

Dorrien smiled grimly. 'The Guild knows that it needs her now. She'll stay.'

Something in the Healer's face hinted at… 'You love her,' Cery said flatly.

Dorrien regarded him with surprise. 'Yes. Maybe, if she had not become his novice…' He looked away. 'But it has become apparent in the past week that she is not for me.'

'Akkarin's gone, now.'

The look Dorrien gave him was sharp. 'That doesn't change anything, Thief.'

Cery nodded. 'I loved her once, too. But she wasn't for me, either. She belonged to the Guild.'

Dorrien slammed his fist down on the small table between the chairs. 'She doesn't deserve this! After all she's been through, first with the Guild searching for her, then with the novices… Then with Akkarin, before she knew the truth… The exile, the black magic, the murder. She doesn't deserve this.' The Healer turned his face away, sucking in his breath in an obvious effort to keep tears at bay.

'I know,' Cery said quietly. 'And Akkarin was a good man. He might have broken your laws, but for a good reason. To save Kyralia.'

'Yes,' Dorrien replied quietly. 'It's just a pity he couldn't save himself.'


End file.
